


take the fight from the kid

by bishopsknifetrick (cherryblossomstump)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Band, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, M/M, No Smut, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, feelings of worthlessness, not really but i consider it to be pretty open
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 16:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16350203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblossomstump/pseuds/bishopsknifetrick
Summary: “He’s not in danger," Brendon says. "He’s in the car with me because I found him wandering around, in the dark, because his parents kicked him out.”There was a pause, and then Pete spoke again, voice considerably softer. “Again, huh? Why didn’t you come to me?”“I don’t… you shouldn’t have to deal with me every single time I mess up…”~Patrick needs to be shown that somebody cares about him.





	take the fight from the kid

**Author's Note:**

> this used to be an abandoned work, but i came back and rewrote the parts that i really hated. title from "camisado" by panic!

Brendon traced his finger across the stars in the sky, mapping out constellations he learned as a kid and that he’d just made up. They twinkled back at him, and it made him imagine that they’re laughing, amused by the patterns he’s drawing. He shifted again, grass and dirt crunching under his body as he tried to get circulation to the numb parts of his body.

 

He wasn’t sure why he kept coming back to the meadow. Maybe it’s the pure tranquility, fifteen minutes out from the city. It could be the soft noises of nature, or the swaying grass, or the lack of any light pollution to block out any of the stars and planets above him. It was perfect, and he was completely relaxed against the ground right up until someone tripped over him.

 

“What the- OW!” He shrieked, shoving the person’s legs off of him. He scrambled to his feet and backed away slightly, staring down at the shaking shadow on the ground. What the _hell_.

 

“Sorry!” the figure said, turning over to simply sit on the ground and gaze back. His blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.

 

Brendon immediately softened. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, attempting to use a soothing voice. “You just startled me, that’s all.”

 

“N-no, it’s my fault,” the figure stutters, catching his sleeves between his fingers and swiping at the tears beginning to make their way down his face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

 

The voice cut itself off as he flinched. Brendon belatedly realized he’d brought his hand up to reach out for the man (boy’s?) shoulder, and hastily drew back.

 

“What’s your name?” he attempted, slowly crouching down as to not spook him.

 

“P-Patrick,” he said, stumbling over his words as he started shivering. “Patrick Vaughn.”

 

Okay, that’s good. He can work with a name. “Okay, I'm Brendon. Are you from Chicago?”

 

The boy-- because he couldn’t be older than seventeen --nodded. “The s-suburbs.”

 

“Can you tell me where?” Brendon asked, casting his eyes around the meadow. Where had he left his truck again?

 

“That’s the p-problem!” Patrick cried, burying half his face into his arms as he crossed them around his knees. “I accidentally said something bad and my parents kicked me out! And now I don’t have anywhere to go, because I can’t go back until Friday, and it’s only Wednesday, and I’m sorry for bothering you, I didn’t think that anyone else would be awake, let alone _out here_ -”

 

“Whoa, slow down,” he said, cutting the teen off. “What do you mean, your parents kicked you out? I’m not even sure that’s _legal_ , man.”

 

Patrick sniffed, avoiding Brendon’s gaze. He rubbed at the tear tracks on his face absently as he spoke. “I don’t know if it is, but they did it anyway, and now I don’t have a place to go. They took my phone, and my keys….. I barely have any money.”

 

The implications crashed onto the older man like a wave. “They were going to let you _starve_?!”

 

“Guess so,” mumbled Patrick in an incredibly small voice.

 

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Brendon said, standing up and extending a hand out. “First off, you’re coming with me.”

 

The blonde’s eyes widened. “B-but… you _can’t_. You don’t even know me!”

 

“Yes, I can.” Maybe if he insisted enough, the teen would give in. “Patrick, listen to me. What your parents did was _wrong_. I’m not going to let you starve, and sleep out in the cold. You’re coming with me.”

 

Patrick’s resolve crumbled. “Alright,” he said, in that same small voice as before. “I can’t pay you much though.”

 

“I don’t want your money.”

 

He helped Patrick up off the ground, and stuck his jacket around his shoulders. (“You’re absolutely freezing, dude, just take it.”) After a good five minutes, in which Brendon actually did find his car, _thank you very much_ , Patrick was sliding into the passenger seat and sighing gratefully. “Well, this isn’t how I expected my evening to turn out,” he said lightly.

 

Brendon laughed softly, turning the keys in the ignition and watching the headlights illuminate the outer ring of trees at the edge of the meadow. “I guess not,” he said.

 

“Thank you, though. I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am for this.”

 

Brendon hesitated before responding, choosing his words carefully. “Did you really not have anywhere else to go?”

 

Patrick didn’t say anything, but Brendon knew the answer. 

 

“Why didn’t you go to them?” He asked, turning and heading for the city. “I’m sure they would’ve helped.”

 

“...Yeah. They probably would’ve.” Patrick gaze stayed firmly placed at the trees zooming by the window.

 

“I don’t understand… is that not a good thing?”

 

Patrick sighed, stare dropping to his lap so he could watch his hands fidget. “They _would’ve_ helped, but like…. they already spend way too much time looking after me.” He shrugs, as if to say _What can you do?_. “I didn’t want to burden them again.”

 

“So this has happened more than once.”

 

Nod.

 

It was now Brendon’s turn to sigh. “Patrick, I don’t know what’s going on in your life to make you think you can’t turn to your friends, but I can assure you they don’t feel that way. If they’re your friend, they’re there to help. Honestly.”

 

“Yeah, I get that, it’s just….. he’s Pete. He’s got his own issues to deal with, and he shouldn’t have to keep an eye on me like… like some kid. He shouldn’t even _have_ to be there for me. I don’t deserve it.”

 

Brendon didn’t know what to do. This kid obviously had some shit going on, and that was a bad sign. He had enough drama going on in his life, he didn’t need _more_. But at the same time… he couldn’t just _leave_ him. Who knew what would happen?

 

“Um.. okay. Do you think you can remember Pete’s phone number?”

 

“I-I mean, I _could_ , yeah, but why?”

 

“I just wanna try something,” Brendon said, hoping something would come out of this.

 

Slowly as he could, trying to prolong it, Patrick started reciting the number out loud. Even though he’d acted like he was unsure, it was obvious he had memorised it. He sent Brendon a questioning look when he finished.

 

“Yeah, that’s great,” he said. Unlocking his phone with one hand, keeping the other firmly placed on the steering wheel, he handed the phone over to Patrick. “Call him. Oh, and put it on speakerphone.”

 

Patrick’s fingers quietly tapped at the screen, and the phone was ringing.

 

A voice came over the line, thick with rest but not with sleep. “‘Eh?”

 

“Pete?” Patrick said softly. Almost immediately, there was a rustling sound as if the person on the other end of the line had abruptly sat up in bed.

 

“Rick? You okay?”

 

Patrick quietly cleared his throat to rid the evidence of his tears. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But I have someone who needs to talk to you?” The end got higher as he trailed off, tone uncertain.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Brendon said, then kicked himself. Way to sound like, well, an unsure teenager.

 

“Trick, who is that?” Pete’s voice got sharper. “Who are you with?”

 

“This is Brendon.”

 

“...Who? We don’t have a Brendon in our school.”

 

Patrick winced, and mouthed “sorry” at the brunet. “Uh, that would be because he doesn’t go to our school.”

 

There was a charged silence. “How old is _Brendon _, exactly?”__

__

__The man in question stifled a laugh. Pete sounded like he would move _mountains_ for Patrick at the snap of a finger._ _

__

__“Uh…. that’s a good question.”_ _

__

__“Patrick. Martin. Stump. Where the hell are you? Actually- scratch that, _who the hell are you with_ -”_ _

__

__“Sh,” Brendon interrupts, glancing from the road to the shivering teenager in his passenger seat. “He’s not in danger. He’s in the car with me because I found him wandering around, in the dark, because his parents kicked him out.”_ _

__

__There was a pause, and then Pete spoke again, voice considerably softer. “Again, huh? Why didn’t you come to me?”_ _

__

__“I don’t… you shouldn’t have to deal with me every single time I mess up…”_ _

__

__“But- we talked about this, remember? I told you, if your parents ever pull this shit again, you come-”_ _

__

__“-straight to you, yeah, I remember,” Patrick sighed._ _

__

__“You promised, Rick.”_ _

__

__“I-I don’t-”_ _

__

__“Patrick, _please_. Where are you?”_ _

__

__Frustrated tears were beginning to make their way down Patrick’s already tearstreaked cheeks, so Brendon decided to take pity on him. “Just entering the outskirts of the city. Where do you live?”_ _

__

__Pete rattled off an address and Brendon quickly turned, jostling the two but heading down the right road. The stars twinkled and faded as they got closer to the city, light pollution hiding them under a layer of artificial light and gas. The truck hit a pothole, but merely bounced before continuing smoothly._ _

__

__“Are you sure you’re okay, Trick?” Pete asked._ _

__

__“Not really….” Patrick said, curled into himself and staring out the window._ _

__

__“We’ll be there soon,” Brendon reassured both of them._ _

__

__They drove in silence._ _

__

__~~~_ _

__

__When Brendon pulled up to the address he’d been given, a dark shape broke itself off from leaning next to the front door and approached the car cautiously, reaching for the passenger door handle as Brendon killed the engine._ _

__

__Then something about the previous conversation caught his attention. “Fake name, huh?”_ _

__

__“Huh? Oh... yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you,” Patrick said, and then immediately turned his attention to the teen waiting outside the car. “Hey, Pete.”_ _

__

__“Pete” turned out to be a short teen with dark eyes and even darker hair, who seemed insistent to tug Patrick away from the stranger as fast as he could. “Seatbelt,” he said, looking ready to reach over and unbuckle it himself. Not once did he glance in Brendon’s direction._ _

__

__“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec,” Patrick said, fumbling for the buckle. He threw a look at Brendon as Pete latched onto his arm and practically dragged him out of the car. “Thank you so much- Pete, _stop_ , what are you doing-”_ _

__

__Brendon chuckled to himself as he watched Pete insistently haul the smaller teen into his house without so much as a backwards glance. He knew they’d turn out alright._ _

__

__~~~_ _

__

__“Why didn’t you come to me, Patrick?” Pete asks softly._ _

__

__Patrick flinches, hyperaware that the lack of a nickname means Pete means business. They’re laying on Pete’s bed, moonlight shining through the window and onto the bed, illuminating the space between their bodies. “‘M not sure,” he mumbles._ _

__

__Pete props his head on his arm and turns to face him, resting his weight on his hip. “That’s not true.”_ _

__

__Patrick doesn’t say a thing._ _

__

__“Trick,” Pete starts, and something in the blonde’s chest relaxes. Pete’s not mad. “We really gotta work on this self-esteem issue of yours. I _told_ you, I _want_ to be here for you. No matter what.”_ _

__

__“But-”_ _

__

__“No buts,” Pete says firmly. “You gotta believe me.”_ _

__

__“I don’t-” This time, Patrick cuts himself off. His lip is wobbling, his eyes stinging. _He’s going to cry in front of Pete.__ _

__

__“Patrick, Trick, it’s okay,” Pete soothes, leaning over him and running a hand through his hair. He brings his legs up under him for leverage. “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re fine.”_ _

__

__The tears overflow and spill over his cheekbones, running under his temples and wetting his hairline. Goddammit. He looks up at Pete, who tilts his head and looks at him sadly. “I-I’m sorry-”_ _

__

__“Oh, Patrick,” he sighs, sitting up. Maneuvering himself to sit against the headboard, he tugs the smaller teen up into his lap, fitting his legs under Patrick’s and supporting his weight. “You don’t need to be sorry. Understand?”_ _

__

__Patrick doesn’t respond, only buries his head into the older boy’s shoulder and twists his fingers into his shirt. A pair of arms wrap around him, holding him close. He distantly realizes he’s trembling, heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of his chest._ _

__

__“-you’re okay, you can stay here, you don’t have to go back until Friday,” Pete says, as Patrick sniffles into his shirt. “Shh, it’s okay, Trick.”_ _

__

__“P-Pete,” Patrick says, choking back his sobs._ _

__

__“I know,” Pete says, his breath tickling the shell of the younger teen’s ear. “You’re alright, Patrick. You’ll be okay.”_ _


End file.
